Romione drabbles a collection of fluffy and adorable moments
by headcanonsandmore
Summary: This collection comprises various drabbles and one-shots about Ron and Hermione. None of them are really connected, but are all about tour favourite two dorks being adorable around each-other.
1. Chapter 1

'_Helllooooo…. Ron…. My gorgeous ginger man…_'

Hermione had ingested a few too many firewhiskies. Ron knew she wasn't normally the type to drink excessively, but it was Christmas and she had said she 'wanted to let her hair down'.

Now, Ron _quite liked_ Hermione's hair as it was, and her hair was almost always down, but that was beside the point.

The point was that she was now giggling to herself whilst leaning into his shoulder. Which Ron had no complaints about at all. One of his favourite things in the world was cuddling with Hermione.

They were both sat on the sofa, an empty bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky on the table in front of them. Hermione seemed to have steadily worked her way through most of the bottle over the course of the past few hours. After they had finished dinner (a lasagne that was Ron's speciality), they had decamped to the sitting room, cuddling up on the sofa and watching television.

Ron had ingested roughly the same amount of alcohol as Hermione had, but -unlike his inebriated girlfriend- Ron was six-foot-tall and muscular. Combined with being a Weasley (a family who all had incredibly high tolerances for alcohol), this meant that Ron felt virtually sober, although feeling very content as he put an arm around Hermione's shoulder.

'Ron… Ron… Ron… you know what we should do?'

''Mione, I think you're a _little_ far-gone for that sort of thing-'

'Nooooo…' Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. 'I didn't mean _that_, you saucy devil! Although… although I like where your mind is going…. No…I meant… I meant we should… should watch a Disney film!'

'A _what_ film?'

'Oh, they're great!' The bushy-haired witch smiled giddily, wiping a bit of drool off her cheek with her wrist. 'They're films by this American…. American company; I… I used to watch them with my mum during the summer holidays.'

Ron chuckled, ruffling Hermione's enormous mane of hair.

'Sure, love. Hang on a sec…' Ron pulled his wand out of his pocket, and pointed towards their video shelf. 'Accio Disney film!'

Several video cassettes flew towards them, landing with a light thud on the coffee table. Ron leaned forward, and picked up a couple.

'So… the… er, "Little Mermaid" or… "The Lion King"?'

'SOMEDAY I'LL BE PART OF YOUR WOOOOOORRRRRRLLLLDDDD…..'

Ron smiled to himself as Hermione sang –albeit in a very slurred voice- the finale to the song. She'd presumably seen this film a lot over the years.

'You… you know s'mth'ng, Ron?'

'Yeah, 'Mione?'

Hermione nuzzled into his side, looking slightly sheepish.

'When I was a child… I… I used to wonder why I didn't fit in… I always seemed… different compared to the other children…'

Ron gave her side a comforting squeeze, and kissed the top of her head.

'I know, love. It's okay.'

'No….no, you didn't let me finish….my mum bought me this video because… because she thought the mermaid was a bit like me… never really fitted in… like I belonged somewhere else…'

'Awww, 'Mione…. you belong in _both_ the wizard and muggle worlds.'

'Well, I know that now… but… but I didn't back then… I was a really lonely child… that's what I always loved that song… f-forget it, I'm being silly…'

She blinked hurriedly, and turned to look away, but Ron cupped her face gently with his hand, so that she was looking him in the eye.

'You're part of _my_ world, 'Mione…' he said, stroking her cheek softly with his thumb. 'You're my _whole _world.'

Hermione's eyes glistened with tears as she smiled up at him, and she closed her hand around Ron's, squeezing it tenderly.

'And you're my whole world too, Ron.'

It might have just been the alcohol talking, but –as Ron's lips met Hermione's- he knew that they both meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

'No way!'

'It's true!'

'You really didn't notice that Fred was dating Angelina? We saw them snogging behind a bookcase in the library!'

'I thought they were just studying CPR!'

'CPR? What's _that _when it's at home?'

Hermione groaned, as Ron continued to giggle. The two of them were playing "truth or dare" in Ron's room, along with Harry and Ginny. It was a cool summer evening in Grimmauld Place, after a long day of decontaminating the old house.

After yet another delicious meal cooked by Mrs Weasley, the four teenagers had been left to their own devices, although Sirius occasionally poked his head into the room with a plate of biscuits (which all seemed to have disappeared into the mouths of the two Weasleys).

Hermione was sat cross-legged on the floor, her already-enormous bushy hair made even larger by the humidity. A few feet away, the long gangly form of Ron Weasley was sprawled against the side of his bed.

Well, "gangly" didn't seem like a fair descriptor anymore. Over the summer, Ron's body had undergone an outstanding change. His torso had strengthened, becoming layered with muscle, and his arms and legs were now strong and firm. His t-shirts (inherited from Charlie) no longer hanged off him, but were now straining to maintain their stitching.

Ron had always been cute, but Hermione was now having serious trouble tearing her eyes away from him. He just looked so incredible; like a beautiful Roman statue brought to life. A ginger statue who kept appearing in Hermione's dreams; dreams that made her profoundly grateful that Ginny (who happened to be presently sharing a bedroom with her) could not perform legilimency.

'Do you just ignore everything that doesn't surround school-work?' Ginny chortled, abruptly pulling Hermione out of her thoughts.

The bushy-haired witch felt her face flush, from both the accusation, and the lingering effects of the sight of Ginny's older brother.

'Oh, come on, Gin,' Ron said, ruffling his hair absentmindedly. 'She's not that bad.'

Hermione's heart pounded painfully against her chest. Oh, who was she kidding? Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself falling even more for Ron when he was as wonderful as he was. Even little things like this made her go all funny.

Oblivious to Hermione's mental confusion, the two Weasley siblings continued arguing.

'Oh, of course _you _would say that.'

'And what's supposed to mean?'

'Guess. Anyway, Ron; it's your turn. Truth or dare?'

Apparently caught off-guard by his sisters' sudden change in topic, Ron scratched his head in bafflement.

'Er… truth, I guess.'

Ginny flashed a mischievous grin.

'Did you _really_ take you three whole years to notice that Hermione was a girl?'

Hermione whipped her head round.

'Ginny!'

'What? You said it yourself, after all; I want to know if it's true.'

Hermione's eyes flicked hesitantly towards Ron. The redheads' ears were flashing their tell-tale pink, and his vision had dropped down low, so that he wasn't looking anyway near Hermione.

'Of course I knew Hermione was a girl,' he mumbled, playing absentmindedly with a loose thread on his jeans. 'It would be weird if I didn't, wouldn't it?'

However, Ginny did not seem particularly enthused with this answer. Her brow furrowing, the short redheaded girl stared confusingly at her brother.

'Then would you care to explain what exactly happened at the Yule Ball-'

'Ginny, your turn now!' Harry interrupted, bounding off the bed. 'I dare you to slide down the bannister!'

'What? Don't I get a choice─?'

'You forfeited that on your last go, remember?' Harry jumped off the bed, and grabbed Ginny's arm, pulling her towards the door. He then turned to speak to his two best friends. 'We'll be back in a bit; you two carry on.'

* * *

The door clicked shut behind them, and Hermione felt herself shiver slightly. She appreciated Harry diverting the line of questioning to make things less awkward for everyone, but how on earth was she supposed to be alone with Ron after that topic had been brought up?

She had spent the past six months desperately trying to forget the night of the Yule Ball. There were many reasons why. Many reasons as to why she had cried herself to sleep repeatedly whilst remembering that godforsaken dance.

And they all had to do with Ron Weasley. And the fact that he hadn't even considered her an option.

'H-Hermione?'

'Yes?'

Ron's eyes hesitantly met hers.

'Did… did you really think I didn't realise you were a girl?'

'Er… well… yes.' Hermione mumbled, feeling very self-conscious. Ron always avoided this topic like it was his worst fear. 'I mean, you made that very clear at the Yule Ball that I was basically one of the boys in your eyes.'

Ron's face creased in confusion.

'What? I've always known you were a girl. Ever since I first met you.'

Hermione's eyes widened.

'Then… then why…'

The redhead looked shyly down at his feet, resuming his fidgeting with the stray thread on his hand-me-down jeans.

'I… I just… didn't want things between us to get so… _confusing_.'

Hermione stared at Ron, her pulse quickening frantically. What did he mean by that?

Confusing? What was he suggesting? That things were different between them now? That things had changed? What had changed? Had the way he saw her changed too? And ─if so─ changed into what?

But ─at that moment─ the door banged open, and their two friends returned, Ginny scowling slightly as she sat down.

'You okay, Gin?'

Ginny pointed her thumb at Harry, who was sat down on the bed next to her.

'This git almost made me fall─'

'I said I was sorry!'

'Harry, please don't put my baby sister in danger.'

'_Baby_?'

Ginny scowled again.

'Well, it's your turn, Hermione; truth or dare?'

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the Weasley girl; she had a sneaky suspicion that if she went for the former, Ginny would ask her something about Ron.

'Dare.'

But Ginny didn't seem disappointed by this response. Instead, her mouth perked up into a mischievous grin.

She leaned close to Hermione's ear.

'_I dare you to kiss Ron.' _

WHAT?!

Hermione's face seemed to burn under her skin, and her pulse rapidly increased. Her? Kiss Ron? Ron Weasley? That was ridiculous! She couldn't do that!

'But─ what─ I─'

Before she could properly refuse, Hermione found herself being pulled to her feet by Ginny, whilst ─nearby─ Ron was being hoisted from the floor by Harry, who (whilst Ron was looking elsewhere) gave Hermione an encouraging nod.

_Oh, god; Ginny and Harry had planned this._

* * *

In what felt like seconds, Hermione and Ron had been shoved out the door, into a broom cupboard along the hall, and the door closed on them by their two friends.

'Oy!' Ron bellowed, hammering on the door with his fists. Through the dingy wood, Hermione could hear laughter. 'What are you gits up to?'

Ginny's laughing voice reached them.

'You'll find out soon enough!'

Ron turned to Hermione, looking very confused, and the bushy-haired witch felt her face flush again as the full weight of what was happening seemed to crash down upon her.

'Hermione; are you okay?'

Hermione stared down at her feet, her hands awkwardly pushed into her jeans.

'Ginny dared me to… to… kiss you.'

'Oh.'

That reaction shocked Hermione out of her confusion, and she looked up at the redhead barely a few inches from her. Ron's ears had bypassed pink and turned maroon. His face was unreadable, and he was staring resolutely down at his maroon-sock-clad feet.

'I'm… I'm sorry, Ron,' Hermione mumbled, feeling very awkward. 'I… I understand. We… we don't have to if you don't want to… to…'

The redhead stared down at his feet, not saying a word.

'I… I mean…' Hermione continued, stumbling through her words. 'If we did… well, it would make things confusing, wouldn't it…'

Ron looked up from his feet, and into Hermione's eyes. Her breath catching in her throat, Hermione remembered his words earlier. She had unconsciously echoed them.

The tall Weasley swallowed loudly, his Adams apple bobbing.

'Well, I suppose things are already confused enough as they are…'

Oh, god. Ron didn't want to kiss her.

Hermione felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes. This was it; the proof that Ron didn't (and _never would_) see her in that way. Why had she ever believed that anyone could happen? Ron was a wonderful, kind, cheerful, gorgeous redhead with the body of a demigod, and she was a messy-haired swot with no social skills. She should have never held out hope. It was no good. Ron clearly only saw her as a friend, and honestly; who could blame him? There was never any chance that he would─

'….so we've got nothing to lose.'

_Wait, what? _

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Ron had closed the few sparse inches between them, cupped his hand under her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione felt her brain stutter to a halt. He was kissing her. _Ron Weasley_ was kissing her. And out of his own volition, too!

His lips were awkward, and inexperienced, but ─then again─ so were hers. She'd never been kissed before; not like this.

She had been pecked on the lips by Viktor Krum randomly during the previous term, but she had pulled away immediately, her mind teeming with images, and with an enormous sense of guilt. She hadn't wanted to kiss Viktor Krum. She had only ever wanted to kiss Ron Weasley. Which was what she was doing at the very moment, and it felt so good.

Her first proper kiss, and with the only boy she had ever wanted to kiss. Perfect.

Hermione pushed her lips closer to Ron, and her hands grabbed handfuls of his t-shirt as she pulled herself closer to him. The tall boy stopped stroking her cheek, and his hand travelled round to her back, pushing his body up against hers even closer. His touch seemed to burn with a wondrous ferocity through her t-shirt, causing a shiver to go up Hermione's spine.

Yes. This was all that she had ever wanted. To feel Ron ─tightly pressed up against her─ strong and so wonderfully warm. Like a warm fire that was exclusively for her.

Ron's lips parted ─almost reluctantly─ with hers, leaving the two of them gasping for breath. Hermione's chest was heaving, and her palms were now covered in perspiration. Ron's heavy breathing barely a few inches from her own face caused butterflies to explode in her stomach, and her blood to pound in her ears.

'_Wow…'_

Hermione smiled shyly up at Ron.

'Wow, yourself.'

The redhead chuckled.

'That was…'

'Great.'

Ron's cheeks flushed, looking adorably flustered.

'R-really?'

Hermione nodded.

Ron's eyes darted down to her mouth, and Hermione felt another shiver go up her spine.

'We… we don't have to do it again if you don't want to…' She stammered, her brain apparently turning into a pool of mush. 'The dare was only for one kiss, after all. But…'

Ron leaned forward, so close that Hermione could hear his heart beating through his chest.

'Do you… not want to?'

That did it.

Abandoning all pretences, Hermione grabbed Ron's head in her hands, and pressed her lips against his.

The effect was instantaneous. Ron's lips sent shockwaves through Hermione's brain as they glued themselves to hers. Roving over the tender flesh of her lips, Ron pressed himself against her even further. Gasping, Hermione's tongue pierced Ron's mouth, sending shivers through her being as it did so. A low moan in Ron's throat escaped, and the redhead responded to Hermione's action in kind. One enormous freckled hand encircled her back, whilst the other tangled itself in her bushy hair.

Hermione's legs seemed to lose their will to stand, and she felt herself go limp against the tall redhead. However, this didn't seem to be a problem for Ron, who responded by pushing the two of them up against the wall. Her back now against the wallpaper, Hermione felt Ron's hand begin to drop down… _down… oh, please… lower…_

But ─showing more self-restraint than Hermione was currently displaying─ Ron's hand stopped abruptly at the top of her jeans. Why did he have to be a gentleman _now _of all times?

Ron's other hand slowly extricated itself from her enormous mane of bushy hair, and stroked her cheek softly with his thumb. Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

Ron's lips once again left hers, but he did not pull away this time. And his eyes were filled with such tenderness and warmth that it took Hermione's breath away.

''_Mione…_'

Ron's voice was husky and deep, sending yet more shivers up her spine.

'Ron…' She breathed, her heart hammering against her chest. 'Ron… I-'

'Dears; are you still stuck in there?'

The sound of the cupboard door swinging open reached their ears, and the two teenagers sprung apart sharply, eyes squinting at the sudden influx of light into the cupboard. Hermione was acutely aware of the sudden lack of close physical contact with Ron, and her heart ached painfully for its return.

A person appeared before them, carrying a stack of laundered clothes so tall that it blocked their vision entirely.

'Oh, there you are, dears,' Mrs Weasley said. 'I heard that Ginny had locked you both in; good thing I was on my way up here.'

'Y-yeah, thanks, mum,' Ron stammered, clearing his throat. Hermione followed him out of the cupboard, scurrying past the Weasley matriarch as they did so.

'It's time for bed, so you best get to your own bedrooms. _Honestly, that sister of yours…_'

'T-thank you, Mrs Weasley.'

Soon enough, the two of them stopped outside the bedroom that Ron shared with Harry. Hermione put her foot on the staircase leading up to the next floor.

'Er… Hermione….'

Hermione cast a tentative look at the redhead, who was staring up at her from outside the door to his room.

'Y-yes, Ron?'

The Weasley boy bit nervously on his bottom lip. The lips that Hermione had been kissing barely a minute before. A deep shiver went down her spine as she recalled the feeling.

'I do see you as a girl, Hermione. Do… do you see me as a boy?'

Hermione felt her heart pound against her chest.

'Yes. Yes, I do, Ron. _More so than before, actually_.'

The redheads' mouth grew into a smile. That wonderful lopsided smile that Hermione had always admired.

'Me too. G'night, Hermione.'

'Goodnight, Ron.'

Heart still pounding, Hermione climbed up the staircase, and entered the bedroom she shared with Ginny.

The younger girl was lying on her bed, perusing a copy of 'Quidditch Monthly' that she had borrowed from Tonks. Hearing Hermione close the door, she looked up, and immediately sprung to her feet.

'So?'

'So… what?'

Ginny rolled her eyes.

'Well, did you do it? Did you finally kiss my brother?'

Hermione chuckled to herself, before sitting down on her own bed.

She heard Ginny sigh, presumably guessing that Mrs Weasley had found them before they could do anything.

Hermione smiled to herself, remembering the warmth of Ron's body and the feel of his lips against hers.

She had certainly been wrong about Ron not seeing her as a girl. But -for possibly the first time in her life- Hermione felt very happy about getting something wrong. This was a mistake that she could _definitely_ enjoy having learned from.


	3. Chapter 3

It was just supposed to be a normal job.

Hermione Granger had never planned to be an assassin. In fact, she had planned to work in local government for her local London borough. Pencil-pushing stuff. Nothing morally-grey.

Yet here she was; tasked with taking out a threat to national security. She'd lost count of the times she'd told her superiors that she wasn't qualified for this sort of thing, but none of them had listened. She supposed the government was lacking in people with critical thinking. Which made more sense that it should.

Her target was apparently on several government watch-lists. Involved in some sort of conspiracy to do… something. The case files about the target weren't very clear on why they were so dangerous.

Hermione sat down in front of the window. She had been told to observe the target beforehand, so she could get a feel of his behaviour patterns. That way they could get a handle on when to 'off' him.

Hermione felt another strong bout of nausea course through her. The whole… assassination part of this was not agreeing with her. She felt like she going to vomit whenever she thought about the fact she was being asked to… kill someone.

Deciding she needed some air, she got up and walked down to the street outside.

She then promptly collided with someone.

'Ooof; sorry!'

Hermione looked up as the person offered their hand to help her back to her feet.

He was tall, gangling, with vivid red hair, and enormous blue eyes that seemed to sparkle.

'You okay?' he asked.

'Y-yeah,' Hermione stammered, as he helped her to her feet. 'Sorry; I didn't look where I was going.'

'Nah; my fault, entirely.' The man said, flashing her a lop-sided smile.

'Er…' Hermione said, swallowing nervously. 'May I buy you a coffee to make up for it?'

The redhead blinked.

'Oh… yeah, sure.'

A few minutes, the two were sat on bench, with two coffees between them.

'So…' The ginger asked. 'Was there any reason you were so wrapped-up in your own thoughts that you couldn't see all six foot two inches of me walking past you?'

Hermione chuckled. Good grief, this man was funny. And gorgeous. Definitely gorgeous.

'Just worried about work.'

The redhead nodded in sympathy.

'Let me guess; government job?'

'Er… yes. How did you…'

The redhead grinned.

'Just a lucky guess.'

Hermione felt her stomach explode into butterflies.

Oh, she wasn't letting this catch get away.

'Speaking of lucky guesses…. are you… doing anything later?'

The redhead's ears went red.

'Well, no… are you… asking me out?'

Hermione felt her cheeks flush.

'Yes.'

The ginger man grinned again.

'I'm not doing anything. Shall we say… seven this evening at the coffee shop we got these drinks from?'

Hermione smiled, nodding happily.

As the redhead wandered away, a thought seemed to strike him, and he called back to her.

'What's your name?'

'Hermione. Hermione Granger.'

He smiled again. He really did have a gorgeous smile.

'And you?'

'Oh… I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.'

As he turned away, he failed to spot that Hermione's smile had slid off her face.

Ron Weasley? Was this some kind of cruel joke?

She had just met her target; and she was going on a date with him that evening.

Hermione nervously drummed her hands on the table. She had arrived ten minutes early to the coffee shop, after spending the previous seven hours arguing with herself about whether it was morally right to go on a date with the man she had been assigned to assassinate.

It wasn't. But -everytime she tried to argue herself out of the date- the image of Ron's gorgeous smile appeared before her eyes. She was powerless.

'Hi, Hermione!'

Ron had arrived, wearing a crisp shirt, trousers and waistcoat. He looked beyond attractive, and Hermione had to snap herself out of her daze so she could answer his call.

'H-hello, Ron!'

He sat down in the seat facing her, smiling cheerily.

Within no time at all, Hermione quickly forgot that Ron was her target. He talked about his family (poor but large), his best friend Harry, and his job. He said he worked for a special branch of the police, but he seemed very vague about the details.

'It's kind-of a specialised branch… very hush-hush.'

'So… you'd have to kill me if you told me about it?'

Ron laughed.

'I hope not. I'd hate to kill such a gorgeous woman.'

Hermione felt herself blushing.

'Oh, shut up,' she spluttered. 'I'm not that good-looking. '

'Well, from my perspective, you are.'

'But you are gorgeous, yourself; you're biased.'

It was Ron's turn to blush.

'You… you think I'm gorgeous.'

Hermione nodded, quite enjoying the flustered and pleased expression on Ron's face.

'Thank you.' He grinned, running a hand through his lovely red hair. 'Hermione… do you…'

'AVADA KEDAVRA!'

Before Hermione knew what was happening, all hell had broken loose around them. Several oddly-dressed men had released what looked like green fireworks, which exploded everywhere, ricocheting off the walls. Ron had thrown himself over the table, pushing Hermione down out of harm's way.

'Ron, what the-?'

'HERMIONE, STAY DOWN!' Ron bellowed, now pulling a thin wooden stick from the pocket of his waistcoat, which he then pointed towards the weirdly-dressed men stood in the doorway to the shop. 'PETRIFICUS TOTALUS! STUPIFY! STUPIFY!'

The stick in Ron's hand exploded like a gun, sending what looked like red fireworks towards the men, who attempted to dodge but were hit nonetheless. They all crashed to the ground.

Ron let out a deep breath, and lowered his arm. He turned to Hermione, who was staring at him, her mouth open.

'Hermione, are you okay?' He asked, his voice tender and soft. 'Sorry I yelled. Did… did you get hit by anything?'

'I'm- I'm fine,' she stammered, clambering to her feet. 'What- what was that?'

'That was magic.'

'M-magic?'

'Yes, and these'- Ron pointed to the strange men, now lying incapacitated on the floor- 'are several dark wizards who were attempting to infiltrate the British government.'

'Hang on,' Hermione said. Those faces looked familiar. 'These… these are the superiors who pushed me into making you my target.'

'That doesn't surprise me.'

'Yes, it- wait… you mean you knew I was being forced to assassinate you?'

Ron gave her an apologetic smile.

'Sorry. Don't worry; I was going to stop them before they made you carry out the assassination. Typical dark wizards; getting innocent people to do their dirty work. But then they decided to go right ahead with my assassination; they couldn't have you figuring out I wasn't actually a threat. Good thing none of them had good aim.'

Hermione felt her heart swirl with all this confusing information. But what next came out of her mouth was something very mundane-sounding.

'So… you're not a threat to national security?'

Ron shook his head.

'Not as far as I'm aware.'

The redhead then looked sheepish.

'Listen… Hermione….' He looked her awkwardly in the eye, looking very sorry for himself for lying to her. 'If you never want to see me again, I can understand why… usually, when non-magic people come into contact with wizards, we memory-charm them so they don't remember us. I… I can do that for you, if you want. It'll be like… like you never even met me.'

Hermione went silent for a minute.

'No thanks.' She said. Ron didn't try to hide the smile that appeared on his face. 'You still owe me a proper date, remember?'

'I do remember.' Ron chuckled. 'How about that Italian restaurant three streets away sound?'

Hermione smiled.

'That sounds good.'


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione Granger rubbed her arm nervously.

It was the night of Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, and she was sat waiting in the Gryffindor Common Room, at her usual table. The students sat in the seats around her were eyeing her enviously. This was one of the larger downsides of the so-called "Slug Club"; it caused so much hostility amongst the students. And Hermione wasn't exactly everyone's best friend to begin with.

Which you could definitely _not say_ about the figure that had just emerged from the boys dormitory steps.

'Hi, Hermione.'

Ron Weasley's eyes twinkled as he approached her, his dark blue robes contrasting beautifully with his freckles.

Hermione's mouth suddenly felt very dry, and she had to cough before she responded.

'H-hello, Ron,' she stammered, flustered. 'You look… er…'

'Oh, yeah,' Ron smiled shyly, indicating his new robes. 'Got these from Fred and George earlier this year. Makes a nice change from...'

He trailed off. The unspoken mention of the Yule Ball briefly fell like a shadow over them. But Ron coughed loudly, and spoke again, his ears turning pink as he did so.

'You… you look great, Hermione.'

The bushy-haired witch struggled to contain her smile. She had ordered new dress robes from Madam Malkins a few weeks previously, and was rather pleased with them. She rarely dressed up like this. But she was going to a party with Ron, and she wanted to look nice. Or rather, she wanted him to see her looking nice. Which he was clearly doing now.

'Th-thank you.'

'No worries. Shall… shall we get going, then?'

'Yes. Let's.'

As the two of them left the common room, Hermione marvelled at how they had managed to get to this point. She had delivered to Ron quite possibly the lamest invitation to a party ever (angrily, in the middle of Herbology class), but he had still accepted.

Granted, his mood hadn't been great recently, but he had understandably been irritable due to Quidditch. But he had delivered that amazing performance at the last match, and his mood had drastically improved afterwards. Hermione was so proud of him; he was finally seeing how amazing he was. That he shouldn't assume the worst about his own abilities. Maybe she should have been more understanding about that in the past, but she was going to make up for it now. Clearly, Ron enjoyed her company enough to accept her invitation, and that surely meant something. Maybe he didn't see her in quite the same way she saw him (she surely couldn't be that lucky), but what was happening between them certainly wasn't platonic anymore. Maybe… just maybe… Hermione could hold out some hope.

'Isn't Harry going with Luna to this?'

'O-oh, yes,' Hermione said, emerging from her own thoughts. 'I think he's meeting her in the entrance hall.'

'It was nice of him. To ask her, I mean.'

'Yes, I suppose. I just hope she doesn't go on about crumple-horned snorkacks or whatever they are…'

Ron chuckled, grinning lopsidedly at her.

'Don't tell me you _still_ don't like Luna.'

'I do!' Hermione exclaimed. 'After what happened at the ministry, how could I not? It's just… well, we're very different people. She's a little too open-minded, and I'm…'

'Close-minded?'

If anyone else had called her that, Hermione would have felt insulted. But this was Ron, and there was no malice to his words. He grinned affectionately down at her, and the two of them exchanged a smile.

'Well, maybe a little bit,' Hermione said, trying not to giggle.

'Yeah, but you do it magnificently.'

'I try.'

Ron winked at her, causing a pleasant shiver to go up her spine, and she felt her cheeks burn again.

Soon enough, the sounds of party-goers reached their ears, and they arrived at the office of Professor Slughorn, which had been magically expanded to host the party. Hermione was vividly reminded of something from a television show of her childhood, but decided not to mention it, as Ron (having not grown up in the muggle world) didn't even know what TARDIS stood for.

After squeezing their way through the bustling crowd just inside the door, Ron and Hermione made their way over to a large table covered in food.

Feeling peckish, Hermione filled her plate, and turned to Ron, expecting him to have his mouth full with food already.

However, Ron was instead pouring her a goblet of pumpkin juice. He paused, casting a confused look at Hermione as she goggled at him.

'What?'

'You're… pouring me a drink.'

A slightly hurt expression formed on Ron's face.

'I'm not a complete ogre, you know.'

'N-no! That's not what I meant!' Hermione spluttered. 'I just… I mean… thank you. That's very sweet of you.'

Ron's expression relaxed slightly and he passed the goblet over to her. Their fingers touched slightly as he handed it over, making Hermione's stomach flip.

'Thanks.'

'No… no problem,' Ron mumbled, the tips of his ears going pink.

Why was Ron so flustered? Did he… was it possible he also⸺

'Ah, Miss Granger!'

Slughorn had joined them, his enormous belly preceding him into view. Hermione swallowed quickly, trying to get over the flusteredness that had just occurred between her and Ron.

'Hello, Professor. Thank you for the invitation, by the way.'

The potions masters waved his hand airily.

'It was no problem at all, my dear. Can't have the best witch in the year kicking her heels back in Gryffindor tower, can we?'

Hermione smiled, feeling a little embarrassed.

'I hope you have a good time this evening. You and… your friend Rupert.'

Hermione bit down hard on her lip to stop herself getting angry. Professor Slughorn had something of an inability to remember Ron's name, and it annoyed her immensely.

'This is Ron Weasley, professor.'

'Ah, Weasley, you say?' Slughorn cast a half-interested eye over Ron. 'Relation of Ginny Weasley, I expect. Quidditch talent seemed to run in that family.'

Hermione's eyes brightened. Finally, she was getting somewhere. Ron was -after all- a brilliant Quidditch player, and⸺

'Have you ever thought of applying for one of the house teams, Weasley? You never know, Ginny might give you a few pointers.'

A shocked and hurt look appeared on Ron's face, and Hermione felt an angry rage ignite in her heart.

'Professor, Ron has been the Gryffindor keeper for the past two years. He helped win the Quidditch Cup for⸺'

'Did he really? Well, good for you, Rupert.' Slughorn interrupted, not taking the slightest bit of notice of what Hermione was saying. 'Miss Granger, I must go; hosting duties wait for no man.'

And with that, Slughorn waddled away towards a large cluster of people nearby.

'Of all the cheek!' Hermione exclaimed, angrily glaring after the potions master. 'How dare he?! I've got a good mind to go over there and continue what I was saying⸺'

But at that moment, Ron grabbed Hermione by the hand, quickly leading her away (leaving both their goblets and plates at the table), and pulled her into an alcove that was partially obscured by a curtain.

'Ron, what are you⸺'

'McLaggen.'

Peering through the curtain, Hermione could see the brutish face of the wire-haired boy scanning the crowd.

'I was rather hoping he wouldn't turn up.'

'So was I, to be honest. He's a git.'

'Language, Ron.'

'Well, it's true! I've seen the way he stares at girls like they're pieces of meat. Thinks he's Merlin's gift to women. Like he thinks they can't resist his charm.'

'Well, then; I'm not sure why he keeps pestering me, then.'

Ron's head snapped round to look at her.

'What are you talking about? Last time I checked, you were a girl.'

'Well, I know _that_.' Hermione said. 'But I'm just _me_, after all. I'm not a supermodel or anything; just plain old Hermione Granger.'

A curious look came into Ron's eyes. Almost like he was affronted.

'What? Where did you get that idea?'

'Excuse me? You think I _should_ have McLaggen ogling me?'

'Of course not!' Ron exclaimed, looking repulsed by the very idea. 'McLaggen's a perv. And a creep. What I meant was… well, that doesn't mean… that you're just plain old Hermione.'

'But I _am_ just plain old Hermione.'

'Not to me.'

Hermione's mouth promptly fell open.

'What? You think I'm joking?' Ron said, looking a little hurt at her reaction. 'You're smart, and funny, and kind. And -yes- you can drive me up the wall sometimes but I like that about you. I… I just… I think you're amazing.'

'R-really?'

Ron's face had (by now) turned bright red, but his eyes met hers, full of open, earnest honesty. His usual lopsided smile grinned down at her, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

'To me? Yeah.'

That did it.

Hermione's resolve crumbled into a million pieces. Before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown her arms around Ron's neck, and kissed him full on the mouth.

His lips were soft, and sweet against hers, and she could feel the slight stubble on his face as she pressed herself against him.

Hermione felt Ron startle against her, and she began to panic. Had she misunderstood completely? Had she destroyed their friendship? Maybe Ron didn't want this. Maybe he was just being a good friend when he said those things. What if⸺?

Her brain stopped responding, because (at that moment) Ron pressed his lips firmly against hers, and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted her off her feet. All of her synapses seemed to disengage, replaced by an enormous sense of euphoria. Ron Weasley was kissing her! She'd kissed him, and he was kissing her back! More than that, he was full-on snogging her!

Hermione's stomach fizzed as she pressed herself tighter to Ron, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. His strong arms were wrapped around her waist, and she could feel his muscles bulging under her touch.

Hermione felt Ron move, so that she was supported against the wall. One of his hands grabbed hold of her thigh, and the other became lost in her hair, which was rapidly coming out of its neat bun. Ron's lips hungrily roamed her lips, and Hermione felt herself moan softly against him.

The party blurred into oblivion beyond the curtain. There was only the two of them; pressed against each-other in the half-light.

_Oh, thank Merlin… _Hermione thought, as she continued to cling to the gorgeous ginger boy she loved_…. Finally…._


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione Granger stumbled through the fireplace of the Burrow, trailing soot.

'Hermione, dear; hello!'

'Mrs Weasley!'

Hermione smiled as the redheaded matriarch pulled her into a big hug. The Burrow's kitchen was filled -as usual- with the sounds of potatoes being peeled, pots being washed, and chickens clucking outside the door.

'Have you been enjoying your summer so far, Hermione?'

'Oh, yes, very much so!' The bushy-haired witch grinned. 'Thank you so much for inviting me to stay, by the way!'

'It's our pleasure, dear. Ron should be down here soon; he's been talking about nothing except your visit for the past few weeks, after all…'

Hermione felt her stomach make a weird lurch. It had been doing that for a while now, whenever Ron's name was mentioned. It had started at the second year, and had only grown stronger over time.

At first she had dismissed it as a symptom of her petrification, but (after the summer break between second and third year) it had clearly not dissipated. It had made third year especially confusing, even discounting the brief time that Ron and herself were not speaking. That had been more painful than she had to admit. She had always understood that she wasn't an easy person to get along with. She hadn't ever had friends before she was at Hogwarts, after all. But being friends with Harry and Ron had been a welcome change. Which made it all the more upsetting when neither of them had been speaking to her.

Harry and Ron were a package deal; they had always been inseparable, even from the first day of first year. Hermione understood that –when push came to shove- she was still something of an outsider in their little trio. The only girl. The only bookworm. It didn't take a lot of effort to see that she didn't fit in with the two boys easily.

However, their reconciliation had shown that -while they might have had outward differences- the three of them really did work best as a trio. And she was so happy that they were friends again.

She had wondered at the time why her estrangement from Ron seemed to hurt her more than her estrangement with Harry had done. After all, they were both her best friends, so why was she more upset over Ron not speaking to her? Yes, she had been upset about not being friends with Harry, but -by contrast- The idea of not being friends with Ron felt like a dagger pushing against Hermione's heart.

Well, Ron clearly didn't think Hermione was the outsider. Because he'd invited her to his house. Although she had never mentioned it, Hermione had always been slightly jealous of Harry for staying at the Burrow. She knew it was silly to think that way (Harry's relatives were awful people, by the sounds of it), but it just seemed to hammer home the fact that Ron was clearly closer with Harry than with her.

But this was different. He had invited her - by way of owl- to stay at the Burrow for a large part of the summer. Hermione wasn't really all that bothered about the Quidditch World Cup, but it was a good opportunity to spent time with Ron. And Harry. Obviously, Harry would be turning up later on.

It wasn't as if she was just hoping to spend time alone with Ron. That would be ridiculous. He was her friend. It was probably just that Hermione had never had friends before, and therefore didn't know yet how to handle things.

Of course. She was Ron's friend. Staying at his house.

Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts, however, as the door of the kitchen banged open.

'Hermione! Hi!'

Before Hermione quite knew what was happening, Ron had crossed the kitchen and pulled her into a hug. Goosebumps erupted up her arms, and she was suddenly aware that she was only wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

_Oh, dear…_

Hermione could feel Ron's chest pressed up against her, and her stomach seemed to flip over. Had Ron's torso always been that well defined? His body heat was so overwhelming, and his distinctive _Ron_ smell filled Hermione's nostrils.

The feel of Ron's body pushed up against her own seemed to burn through her clothes. Although it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. It was –however- simultaneously wonderful and terrifying.

'R-Ron! Hello!'

The redhead didn't seem to notice Hermione's flustered expression as he pulled away. Although his ears seemed to turn slightly red. Probably just a trick of the light.

'It's great to see you, Hermione.' Ron said, before a confused expression clouded his face. 'Wait… are you okay?'

Hermione nodded vigorously. She couldn't dare tell him that the feel of his body against hers had sent shockwaves through her entire being, and reduced her usually-teeming brain to an incomprehensible mush.

Besides, it wasn't as if he would ever see her in the same way, anyway.

'Yes, Ron.' Hermione said, sadly as he picked up her suitcase. 'I'm fine. Same old Hermione.'

* * *

'CANNNONBALL!'

Hermione promptly dropped her book in surprise. Ron had appeared by the pond, wearing only a pair of swimming shorts, and promptly jumped into the water, his legs tucked up in front of him.

'Shove off, Ron!' Ginny moaned, spitting water out of her mouth nearby. 'Hermione doesn't want to see your freckled excuse for a chest!'

Ron emerged, grinning and brushing his long hair out of his eyes.

'Sorry, Hermione,' he said, turning apologetically to the bushy-haired witch sat on the side. 'Did I make you drop your book?'

Swimming over to her, Ron dived again, emerging with the now-soaked book in his hand. His blue eyes glinted like orbs in the sunlight.

'My bad,' he said, handing it over to her. 'You can get mum to get the water off if you like.'

Hermione took a couple of seconds to respond. Her brain seemed to have short-circuited. A shirtless Ron Weasley was staring up at her, his wet hair pushed to the side, water trickling down his chest, and …. since when did Ron have _muscles_?

'Y-yes, thank you, Ron!' Hermione stammered, taking the book hurriedly and standing up. 'I'll-I'll go do that now!'

'Oh, okay.' Ron said, looking a little confused by her reaction. 'Dunno why you're reading a book instead of swimming; it's lovely in the water.'

Hermione didn't answer. The thought of standing in front of Ron wearing nothing but a swimming costume suddenly seemed impossibly brave. What on earth was wrong with her? This was just _Ron_, after all.

Ginny (a shrewd expression on her face) hurriedly climbed out of the pond, and wandered into the house with Hermione.

'Hermione?'

'Y-yes, Ginny?'

'Could you -by any chance- explain why the sight of my brothers' chest seemed to reduce you to a stammering wreck?'

Hermione felt her cheeks glow. _Oh, god; Ginny had noticed!_ That meant Ron had probably noticed her weird behaviour as well! She didn't think she could stand the thought of him teasing her over it- wait, no; that was ridiculous. Ron would never do that. He wasn't the sort of person who'd maliciously taunt someone over something like this. Fred and George? Definitely. But Ron wouldn't. He was a sweet boy. A little prattish at times, yes. But he was still a sweet, kind-hearted boy. Maybe that's why she liked him so much-

Wait, what was she even thinking? Yes, of course, she _liked_ Ron. He was her friend, after all. But -then again- why had she reacted so weirdly⸺?

'Oh, you _fancy _him!'

Ginny had clearly read the expression that was no-doubt plastered all over Hermione's face. A shiver went up Hermione's spine, and her stomach seemed to flip over. That wasn't possible! It just wasn't possible that she could…. that she could…

'W-what?'

'You fancy Ron!' Ginny exclaimed, in a hushed tone (the house- after all- was very small and very busy). 'You fancy him!'

'W-what? N-no, I don't⸺'

'Ooooh, you do!' Ginny continued, looking terribly excited. 'That would explain why you've been staring at him so much!'

Staring at him? Has she really been doing that? She was certain that she hadn't been. But -then again- how could she be sure? It wasn't as if she was keeping track of how long she looked at Ron every day. Surely, she wasn't looking at him more than she looked at -say- Harry.

But she _didn't_ look at Harry in that way. Harry was like a brother to her. But Ron … Ron on the other hand… was something very different. Yes, he was her best friend. But not in the same way as Harry was. _Did she… did she really….?_

Impossible. It was impossible, surely.

'I… I don't stare at Ron!'

'Couldn't have fooled me. As soon as he dived into the pond, you looked like he'd just snogged you!'

_S-s-snogged her?_ Hermione's face seemed to grow warmer and warmer. Her brain rapidly began to construct scenarios where a topless Ron kissed her passionately on the lips, next to a pond that was mercifully free of his redheaded siblings.

She really had completely lost her mind.

'You're… you're being ridiculous, Ginny!' Hermione exclaimed, striding off to the kitchen with her nose held high. 'Don't be so silly!'

However -as Mrs Weasley performed a drying charm on the soaked book- Hermione couldn't help but feel her heart continue to pound as she remembered the way Ron had emerged from the pond. A shiver went up her spine.

_Oh, god, what was happening to her?_

* * *

Eventually (after several hours of struggling to relax beside the pond with her book) the heat became too much, and Hermione reluctantly decided to go for a swim. That water looked so inviting that she couldn't help herself. Ron Weasley's presence be damned, she was going to cool off in the water.

Within the confines of the room she was sharing with Ginny, Hermione pulled on the swimming costume she had bought. It was only a simple dark blue, one-piece affair. Nothing fancy. Hermione didn't feel she had much to offer in the way of physicality.

Emerging from the Burrow, Hermione walked through the garden towards the pond. She unwrapped her towel from around herself and placed it gently by the waters end.

Ron -of course- didn't notice. He was lying on the grass nearby, his arm over his eyes as he relaxed in the sun. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about that; did she want him to look at her? And -if so- why? It wasn't as if she wanted to see the disinterest on his face.

Sighing slightly to herself, Hermione dived.

The water was fresh and cool; a welcome relief from the heat. Diving under the surface, Hermione felt herself relax. Yes, it was likely that Ron would never see her in the same way she was beginning to see him. But -then again- she was a bookworm with bushy hair and a childlike body. Why would a handsome redheaded boy possibly see her in a way that wasn't just platonic?

It was good that she was under water, because Hermione's eyes felt distinctly wet at that moment in time.

Hermione broke the surface, and swept her hair away from her face.

That was when she noticed Ron was staring at her, his eyes wide and… were his ears turning red again?

Ginny tried not to giggle as Hermione pulled herself out of the water, and began drying her hair. Her enormous bushy hair was always tangled and messy from the water, but Hermione found it difficult to care.

She sat down on the grass next to Ron, who promptly did a double take and coughed loudly.

'Ron? Are you okay?'

'E-er…. y-yeah, fine!' Ron stammered, not quite looking Hermione in the ear.

Ginny giggled from the other side of the pond.

Hermione tried not to smile, as she played with a blade of grass. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the blush slowly extending from Ron's ears down his neck.

_Maybe she wasn't the only one who was beginning to notice different feelings, after all…_


	6. Chapter 6

'Come on, Ron; it could be worse. At least your fingers aren't full of pus!'

Ron's eyes flicked down to Hermione's hands, and his prior frustration at his poverty dissipated as his brow creased in sympathy. The bushy-haired witch was clearly having difficulty cutting her portion of beef.

'I hate that Skeeter woman!' Hermione exclaimed, dropping her knife and fork onto her plate. Her heavily-bandaged fingers were clearly too sore to hold her cutlery with. 'I'll get her back for this if it's the last thing I do!'

Without thinking, Ron reached forward, pulled her plate towards him, and began to cut up her food.

'You're right, Hermione. Maybe we can talk to McGonagall about screening your mail from now on, so you don't get any more hate mail like that.' Ron said, as he focused on cutting the beef and potatoes into bitesize chunks. 'Skeeter is always causing trouble, and it's not right that she can get away with slandering you like this…I swear, I've got a good mind to send Skeeter some Bubotuber pus and see how _she_ likes it… '

As the redhead continued his tirade against Rita Skeeter, Hermione's face grew redder and redder. Her eyes -now wide and open- seemed unable to leave Ron's face.

'Anyway… there you go, Hermione,' ⸺Ron finished cutting up Hermione's food, and pushed the plate back across to her⸺ 'You'll still have to use one hand, but you won't have to cut anything up now…'

It was only at this point that he noticed Hermione staring at him.

'What?' Ron asked, looking confused. 'Sorry; did I not cut them up small enough?'

'N-no, they're fine!' Hermione stammered, looking very flustered. 'T-thank you so much, Ron.'

Ron shrugged.

'No worries.'

Ron turned to Harry, and began to talk about whether they could complain to McGonagall about the letters Hermione had been sent. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Hermione continuing to stare at Ron. Her eyes were filled with an immense tenderness as she slowly began to eat the food that the redhead had so carefully cut up for her. Ron probably didn't even realise the significance of that small act of kindness he had taken, but it meant the world to Hermione.


	7. Chapter 7

Ron had to admit; when he had imagined spending Valentine's Day alone with Hermione, he hadn't pictured being ensconced in Snape's dungeon, slaving over a hot cauldron.

Hermione was volunteered to do some potion concoctions for extra credit, and Ron (being weak to her puppy-dog eyes) had agreed to help. Instead of -say- walking through a snowy Hogsmeade and sharing shy glances, they were stood sooty-faced in a corner of Snape's miserable dungeon. Hermione's hair had gotten even bushier than normal, and Ron was sure that he himself was sweating through his shirt.

Having said that, there was something to be said for the way Hermione's brow was creased in concentration as she perused the textbook. Ron had always loved the way her eyebrows would get all crinkly when she concentrated. At first, it had been simple admiration for her brain, but it was so much more than that now.

And it wasn't as if the sight of Hermione concentrating on something she was passionate about was unattractive. Definitely not. In fact, it had joined Hermione's passionate arguing face in several of Ron's fondest daydreams. And a few night-time dreams which made Ron devoutly thankful that Harry hadn't mastered legimency just yet. That would be a bit embarrassing, to say the least.

Come to think about it, Hermione had removed her jumper, and had rolled her sleeves up. Her chest was heaving slightly as she bent over the cauldron once again, and Ron could just about make out the outline of her⸺

_Merlin's beard, what was he doing?_

Ron pulled his eyes determinedly back to the contents of the cauldron, feeling ashamed with himself. Hermione wasn't some piece of meat to leer at; she was his friend. Well, he hoped that one day she might be _more_ than just his friend, but that was another matter entirely. The fact of the matter was that Ron shouldn't be ogling her like the hormonal teenage perv he was terrified she now saw him as.

He'd made a right pig's ear of things the previous year, after all. Although it hadn't been his fault that Fleur Delacour Veela magic affected him so badly, his behaviour had definitely soured Hermione's impression of him. She was so bloody smart; she probably already knew how much of a perv he could be. Sure, he wasn't as bad as some other boys, but he imagined Ginny had wasted no time last summer in telling Hermione about all the times she's caught him ogling women.

It was a miracle that Hermione was still his friend, in all honesty. He supposed it was due to them never speaking about the Yule Ball, and all the complicated emotions that had been brought to the surface by that fateful night.

Ron glowered down into the cauldron as he remembered.

Viktor Krum. Viktor _bloody_ Krum.

Merlin, why did it have to be _Krum_, of all people? The wealthy, talented Quidditch player that all the women fancied. Why did _he_ have to be the one who had noticed Hermione?

How could Ron _ever _compete with that? Ron -in his dodgy robes and ginger hair- would never be able to match up. He'd lost the fight before he could even start. How pathetic was that? How pathetic was _he_?

'Now, we need to add the newt tails and… Ron? Ron? Are you alright?'

Ron lifted his head to find Hermione staring at him, looking concerned.

'Er, yeah. Sorry; was a million miles away.'

Hermione chuckled. Ron's heart sank slightly; of course, she probably expected him to lose interest in this. He wasn't a bad student, but he certainly wasn't on her level.

'I'm sorry,' Hermione said, smiling at him. 'I've been ignoring you this whole time, and forgot that you're not as into this as I am.'

Ron shrugs, feeling his heart become a little more buoyant.

'No big deal.'

The two of them stared at each other, and Ron couldn't help but feel his mouth ease into a soft smile. Merlin, he really couldn't stop behaving like a lovesick dolt around her, could he? Talk about a hopeless case.

However, Hermione's cheeks seemed to glow red as Ron stared at her, and she promptly dropped the vial she was holding into the cauldron.

There was an enormous bang, and purple smoke billowed out of the cauldron. Coughing and spluttering, Ron waved the vapour away from his eyes. The rest of the classroom was obscured by the smoke, but Ron could just about make out the cauldron in front of him.

'Merlin's beard! Hermione? _Hermione_?'

'H-Here…'

Ron's eyes widened.

Hermione was no longer visible from where he was standing, and her voice was several octaves higher than normal.

Dashing round the cauldron, Ron discovered a huge stain of purple liquid sticking to the stone flooring, and a small figure lying amongst them.

Hermione had clearly been doused in the potion, but that was not the problem.

The problem was that she was barely a few inches tall.

'H-Hermione?' Ron stammered, his voice quavering as he knelt down in front of her. 'Are- are you okay?'

'I… I think so,'⸺ Hermione blinked -confused- up at Ron, and her eyes widened in apparent horror.⸺ 'What? Wait; why are you so much larger than before? _No… what…?_'

Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears as she realised just what had happened.

'I… I can't go back to mum and dad like this,' she sobbed, her small body shaking as she wept. 'I couldn't go out in public in the muggle world.'

'Hermione, don't worry, it's going to be okay; we can fix this⸺'

'But w⸺what if we can't?' Hermione exclaimed miserably, her eyes already becoming bloodshot. 'I never fit in to begin with, but this is just… _how can I ever live a normal life again_?!'

'Even if you can't go to the muggle world, you can stay at The Burrow.' Ron pressed on, without thinking. 'I don't care whatsize you are; _I want to be here for you_.'

Hermione blinked up at him, her eyes wide and teary.

'_R-really?_' she hiccupped. 'You… you mean it?'

'Course I mean it. I'm not gonna leave you all alone.'

Without thinking, Ron reached forward and gently stroked Hermione's tears away. Her skin was delicately soft under his touch. The bushy-haired witch seemed to stop breathing, her cheeks glowing red.

Ron suddenly realised what he was doing, and he felt his ears burn pink.

'W-we need to get to Professor McGonagall,' Hermione stammered, looking very flustered as Ron moved his hand away from her face. 'She'll be able to reverse the effects of that potion.'

'O-oh, yeah,' Ron said, blinking hurriedly. 'Sure. Let's get going now, before⸺'

At that moment, a large crowd of students (third years, by the looks of them) burst through the door. Before Ron really knew what he was doing, he had ducked in front of Hermione, obscuring her from view while she scrambled into one of the pockets of his robe.

'Oy,' explained one third year. 'What's that funny smell?'

'Sorry⸺ spilled something' Ron mumbled, pushing his way through the younger students, towards the door, pulling on his Gryffindor scarf as he did so. '⸺ cleaned it up⸺ smell should go soon⸺'

'You can't just leave like this,' another third year objected. 'What were you even brewing, anyway⸺'

'Gotta go; sorry!'

Ron burst into the corridor, and the sounds of the grumbling younger students gradually became quieter as he hurried away. The castle was surprisingly quiet that day, and Ron remembered that Harry had gone on his date with Cho earlier that morning. He and Hermione had been planning on meeting up with him in the Three Broomsticks later; Ron had been hoping that maybe he could persuade Hermione to look around the shops first. Not that it would be a date, or anything. But it could have been _something._

Not that it was going to happen now. But this was more important.

'Mr Weasley!'

Bollocks.

It was Umbridge. Her toad-like face was glaring angrily up at Ron, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

'And why -might I inquire- are you doing stampeding through the corridors like a deranged bludger?'

Ron scowled down at the diminutive professor. He felt Hermione quiver slightly in his pocket, and his anger for Umbridge grew. How dare the toad make Hermione so scared? No way in hell was he going to let Umbridge find out about Hermione's current predicament; she'd probably give both of them detentions, and ban them from standing near a cauldron for three years.

Feeling the blood pour angrily through his heart, Ron clenched his hands together. He couldn't give Umbridge cheek; she'd just get suspicious. But another option was open to him.

'Need to see Professor McGonagall, sorry!'

Leaving an infuriated Umbridge behind him, Ron darted around a corner, and through a false tapestry that he often used as a shortcut. He felt like a coward, but if it meant Hermione was safe, he didn't care. Hermione's safety was more important than his own ego.

As he sprinted through various different shortcuts, the sounds of Umbridge's indignation grew more and more distant. He might end up with a detention later on, but –as long as he could get Hermione to McGonagall's office- he couldn't give a monkeys.

Hermione gave a soft sigh from inside his pocket, and he leaned against a wall. Checking to make sure there was no-one around, he gently eased her out of his pocket.

'Hermione, are you okay?'

Oh, merlin; he was surely hurting her with his enormous hands. And she'd likely been knocking around in his pocket during that running. Honestly, why did he have to be so ungainly and awkward? He was such an idiotic prat, why did he ever think he could⸺

Ron's train of thought fizzled out, however. As –at that moment- Hermione snuggled into his palm, her mouth stretching into a small smile. Under normal circumstances, she would likely never be this unguarded about her emotions, but maybe her vulnerable state had brought her emotions more front-and-centre. Her cheeks dimpled as she nuzzled into his skin, sending shivers up Ron's spine.

Maybe he wasn't doing too badly, after all.

* * *

Ron burst into McGonagall's office without knocking. Normally, he wouldn't have dared to be so rude, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He could deal with any lectures from McGonagall about manners.

He needn't have worried, though. The office was empty. Presumably, McGonagall was either in the staff room or teaching classes.

'I suppose we should wait for her?'

Ron looked down at Hermione. She looked serious but surprisingly relaxed as she peeked over his fingers into the room. Ron felt his heart beat warmly for her, as he felt overcome with affection for the bushy-haired witch. He was probably looking at her like a total sap, but he found it difficult to care.

Softly putting Hermione onto a chair nearby, Ron sat down next to her. Feeling a bit calmer, Ron gently eased his robes off, and sat there in his jeans and jumper.

'Thank you, Ron. You really saved me back there.'

Ron shrugged.

'No worries. Are you sure you're okay?'

'More or less,' Hermione said. 'Although I wish I could move around a bit easier.'

'Hey, wasn't there a floatation charm you mentioned last week. Wouldn't that help?'

'I… I think so. But I'm not really sure if I can use magic at the moment.'

'I can do it,' Ron replied, then hesitantly continued. 'I mean… if that's okay with you? I know I'm not the best wizard ever⸺'

'Don't be so dismissive of yourself, Ron.' Hermione interrupted, looking astonished that he would even say that about himself. 'You're an amazing wizard, and I trust you with my life.'

Ron could feel his ears burning bright red again, but he didn't care. An enormous sense of joy was growing inside his heart. Hermione didn't think he was an idiot; she actually thought he was an amazing wizard…

'O-okay, then,' the redhead said, as he took his wand out of his pocket. 'I'll just….'

Ron uttered the spell, and a shower of colourful sparks descended over her.

Hermione floated off the ground, apparently relishing in the ability to fly unaided. Her enormous hair whipped back and forth in a way Ron had never really seen before, given Hermione's fear of flying on brooms.

Smiling widely, she flew around Ron's head several times, and the redhead found himself unable to contain his adoration for the bushy-haired witch as he looked at her.

Chuckling to herself, Hermione hovered in front of him.

Then, their eyes met, and Hermione's face seemed to glow again, as if she couldn't quite understand the tender look in Ron's eyes.

'_Ron…'_

'_Hermione…I….'_

The door burst open, and the two of them jumped.

Professor McGonagall strode into the room, carrying a stack of books. Upon seeing Hermione's size, the imperious-looking professor sighed, as if she had long since grown used to the various escapades her students got up to. Ron imagined that even this wasn't a shock to her.

Putting the books down on her desk, McGonagall pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and turned to face them.

'Well, I think an explanation is in order.'

'Professor, I'm… I'm so sorry,' Hermione mumbled, looking very ashamed. 'I was working on potion-brewing for some extra credit, and I ended up dropping some eel-spleen extract into it. It exploded all over me.'

McGonagall viewed Hermione shrewdly, as if contemplating how to continue this discussion.

'P-professor, please don't give Hermione a detention,' Ron pleaded, stepping forward. He wasn't sure what was making him say this, but he knew that Hermione was already worried enough without the possibility of being punished. 'It wasn't her fault. She was doing really well -as usual- and I distracted her from what she was doing. It was an accident, but if anyone deserves punishment for this, it's me.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron couldn't help but notice Hermione's face glowing again.

McGonagall smiled slightly, as her eyes flicked between the two Gryffindor students.

'Very well, Mr Weasley. But do not be alarmed; neither of you deserve punishment for this. After all, you accompanied Miss Granger safely to my office, and spared her the embarrassment of the school discovering her altered state. I would say that merits ten points to Gryffindor.'

Ron blinked, confused. Ten points? He wasn't complaining, but was it really necessary? He was just being a good friend, after all; nothing out of the ordinary.

As if reading his thoughts, McGonagall addressed him again.

'You underestimate yourself, Mr Weasley. There aren't many people who undertook what you did without even thinking.'

Ron felt his ears burning red again, especially considering the large smile Hermione was giving him. She looked… _proud_.

Ron suddenly felt ten feet tall. Hermione was proud of him. Proud! Of _him_; plain old Ron Weasley!

'Now, Miss Granger,' McGonagall continued, and Hermione gave a start. 'Thankfully, the seventh-year Potions class recently created antidotes to size-altering potions. If you'll excuse me just a moment…'

The professor walked over to her office fireplace, which suddenly burned bright with green flames. Sticking her hand into the flames, McGonagall then pulled out a delicate vial, filled to the brim with a bubbling potion, which was light purple with occasional flashes of gold.

McGonagall waved her wand, and a table nearby transformed into a bed, such as the ones used in the hospital wing. With another wave, a nearby set of screens was moved into place around the bed.

'Miss Granger, if you'd like to sit down…'

Hermione gave Ron a nervous smile, before flying around the screen, and landing with a soft plop on the bedsheets. Through the screen, Ron could only see her tiny silhouette, her bushy hair every bit as vibrant as it always was.

Joining Hermione behind the screen, McGonagall kneeled down in front of her, and -after motioning for Hermione to open her mouth- began to pour the contents carefully into Hermione's mouth.

A few moments later, McGonagall stepped round the screen.

'Should I wait outside, professor?' Ron said, immediately. 'It's probably not right to me to hang around while she's changing back⸺'

'Actually, Mr Weasley,' McGonagall interrupted, 'I think it would be preferable if you would stay in the room. Miss Granger could use a supportive presence in the room, while the potion takes effect. Speaking of which, I trust you will not stare at much at Miss Granger while she is changing into another set of robes? The antidote will not alter her clothing's size as the original did⸺'

'W-what?' Ron spluttered, his face turning bright red. 'I⸺I mean, of course I won't look! But Hermione probably won't be comfortable with me being in the room⸺'

'It's… it's fine.' Hermione's voice uttered -barely a squeak- from behind the screen. 'I… I trust you, Ron.'

'O…okay, then.'

McGonagall smiled slightly to herself, and Ron guessed that she had probably seen teenagers in embarrassing situations like this more times than she could count. That didn't make him feel much better about the situation, but he did see that she wasn't mocking them. If anything, it looked like there was a fond sort of sympathy in her gaze.

'I'll leave you both to it, then,' the professor said, striding over to the door. 'I'll lock the door so no-one will be able to interrupt the antidote taking effect. You'll both be able to leave, though.'

The large oak door clicked shut behind her, and the room fell silent. Ron could practically feel his own heartbeat.

A soft glow began to emit from behind the screen, and Hermione's silhouette began to grow in size. Ron hurriedly turned away, so as to give Hermione some privacy.

There was the unmistakable sounds of Hermione's clothes ripping as her body expanded to its normal size. Oh, Merlin…

Ron screwed his eyes shut tightly, refusing to let his hormonal teenage mind wander. Hermione was his best friend, after all; he certainly shouldn't be thinking about the fact that she was possibly naked barely a few feet from him⸺

Nope. He wasn't going to think about that.

There was a soft creak of the bed, and Ron guessed that McGonagall had left some robes on the bed for Hermione to wear, at least until she could change into her own clothes back in her dormitory.

He could hear the sounds of Hermione getting dressed, but Ron refused to let his eyes open even a jot.

'Er… R⸺Ron?'

'Y-yeah, Hermione?'

'You… you can open your eyes now. I'm dressed.'

'O⸺oh, right…'

Cautiously, Ron opened his eyes. Hermione was stood a few feet from him, back to her normal size, and looking as if nothing had happened to begin with.

Well, apart from the fact that her face was glowing once again. Her eyelashes seemed to flutter as she looked up at Ron, blushing prettily at him. But maybe that was just Ron being hopeful?

'All back to normal, then?'

'More or less,' she said, rubbing the sleeve of her robes shyly. 'I'll probably need to have a shower and get changed into my normal clothes, I expect.'

'Fair enough; it's been a weird day, hasn't it?'

Hermione chuckled, her cheeks dimpling.

'Yes, I suppose it has been. But… well… it wasn't completely horrible.'

'How do you mean? You liked being barely a few inches tall?'

'Obviously not,' Hermione said, 'Aside from the flying, but… w-well, you were there for me. You got me here safely, and… you… you made it seem… rather nice, actually. T⸺thank you for that. It meant a lot to me.'

Ron could feel himself blushing again. He felt like all the blood was rushing to his face.

Feeling immensely flustered under the warm look Hermione was giving him, Ron shrugged.

'You would have done the same for me.'

Hermione stared up at him, her eyes wide and clear.

'Of course I would.'

As if without thinking, the bushy-haired witch stood up on the tips of her toes, and kissed Ron softly on the cheek.

Ron's heart seemed to skip a beat, and he could feel his ears beginning to burn red once again.

Looking down, he could see Hermione's cheeks glowing slightly, or maybe he was just in a stupor from what she had just done.

'W-well… Happy Valentine's Day, Ron.'

Ron grinned.

'_Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione._'


	8. Chapter 8

Ron Weasley slowly opened his eyes. The delicate March sunshine was twinkling through the curtains of the bedroom. He was dimly aware that today was a special day, but he couldn't quite remember what. It wasn't Hermione's birthday (too early in the year), or their anniversary (likewise). So what was it?

His thought process evaporated into thin air, however, as his eyes came to focus on the bushy-haired woman next to him.

Hermione was lying on her side, her eyes sparkling. Her hair was bed-rumpled (Ron's stomach gave a fizz as he remembered what they'd been getting up to the previous evening), and she was wearing a loose robe. It looked a little thin for the time of year, but the heating in their house was always warm, so it made little difference. And Ron found it difficult to complain, as Hermione's curves were brought into greater effect by the clinging fabric.

'Happy Birthday, Ron.'

The redhead let out a low groan, flipping onto his back as he put his face in his hands, feeling the stubble under his fingers.

'_Forty_? I'm _forty_?'

'It's not that bad,' Hermione said, stroking a finger along his side. 'I'm forty, remember, and you didn't have any complains about it on my birthday'

'_That's_ different. You're a gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful woman. I'm a⸺'

'Utterly gorgeous, beautiful, wonderful man,' the bushy-haired witch interrupted. 'And I love you.'

Leaning forward, she kissed him on the lips. Despite their morning breath, the kiss was pretty awesome.

'I love you too, 'Mione.'

The two shared a smile. One of the things Ron would never get tired of was the little moments he got to have with Hermione every day. Even after over two decades of being together, the novelty had never worn off. And he hoped it never would.

The two of them sat up, and Ron took the opportunity to sip from the glass of water on his bedside table. Hermione apparently liked the roughness of his voice in the mornings, but Ron thought it best to have a clear throat if he was going to be talking a lot today.

'This came in the post earlier, actually,' Hermione said, picking up a stack of letters from her bedside table. 'Birthday cards.'

'This one is definitely from the kids,' Ron said, as he opened a large orange envelope with Rose's neat writing on the front. 'I'm surprised they remembered; things are busy at Hogwarts at the moment.'

'They always _are_ busy at Hogwarts,' ⸺Hermione chuckled fondly⸺ 'but the kids won't ever forget your birthday; you're their favourite.'

'Nah; we're both their favourite.' Ron replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 'Cause you're the best mum ever.'

Hermione blushed prettily. Putting an arm around her, Ron lay back against the headboard and began opening up the many cards and letters.

As he opened a card from Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ron smiled to himself.

'Still can't believe it, to be honest.'

'That you're forty?'

'Well, yeah. But not just that. Being here. Living my life.'

A quizzical look came across his wife's face.

'How do you mean?'

'Well, it's quite an achievement, considering that I didn't originally expect to reach twenty, so…'

Ron stopped talking, his eyes widening in horror as he saw Hermione's dark-brown orbs fill with tears.

'Oh, love; I'm sorry,'⸺ he pulled her into a hug, wiping her tears tenderly away⸺ 'I shouldn't have said that; I didn't mean it like that…'

'Then w-what did you mean?' Hermione wept, putting her arms around him. 'How could you _possibly_ think you wouldn't be around on your twentieth birthday?'

'I⸺It's difficult to explain.'

'Then try.'

Ron sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

'Well, I always kind-of assumed I'd go out throwing myself in harm's way for you and Harry. I mean, there were so many times I could do it, before my luck ran out…'

Hermione stared up at him, tears continuing to splash down her face.

'I wouldn't let you go out like that,' she said, earnestly. 'I… I couldn't…. couldn't bare a world without you in it.'

''Mione…' Ron whispered, softly. 'Sssshhhhh, I'm here now, aren't I? We got through it okay.'

'I know. Just… please don't ever think you're expendable.'

'I won't, love. I was an insecure teenager back then. I've changed a lot in the past twenty years.'

'I know that.' ⸺A slightly saucy tone came into Hermione's voice, her tears rapidly disappearing from her eyes⸺ 'Actually… well… I mean, it _is _your birthday, after all… and the kids are both at Hogwarts… we've got the house to ourselves… I've booked the day off work…'

'I _am_ rather enjoying being forty so far…' Ron said, his stomach starting to fizz again. 'But I'm open to any more suggestions on how to make the day _even better…_'

'Well, you are definitely in DILF territory now…' Hermione breathed, her voice sending goosebumps up Ron's neck. 'Maybe you should unwrap your present?'

'What's a DILF, again?' Ron said, his hands now softly untying the band around Hermione's robe. 'Is that one of the muggle sayings that is popular nowadays?'

Her eyes glinting, Hermione climbed out of bed, and gently slipped off her kimono robe, revealing very little clothing underneath. Nothing, in fact.

'_Maybe you should find out, birthday boy…_'


	9. Chapter 9

Ron's ears had turned red the instant Madam Rosmerta had turned to them at the bar. Hermione felt her stomach drop several inches, and her mouth curve into a frown.

'T-two butterbeers, please,' Ron stammered.

Rosmerta nodded cheerfully, before serving up two huge mugs of the beverage.

As he handed his money over, Ron's fingers skimmed over the barmaids skin, causing his ears to bypass red.

Grabbing Ron by the arm, Hermione pulled him away to a table.

'Well, I'm glad you like her so much,' Hermione hissed, as they sat down.

'O-oh,' Ron mumbled, looking embarrassed and a little ashamed. 'Sorry.'

'Honestly, anyone would have thought you'd never met a woman before,' she glowered, taking a quick sip from her mug. 'I know I'm not especially womanly, but I would have thought you could keep your head on straight more than that.'

Ron looked at her, confused.

'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, you know fully well what I mean!' Hermione exclaimed, wondering why she was so angry over this. 'I'm basically another bloke to you!'

'Don't be daft,' Ron said, looking affronted. 'I'd be a right twit if I didn't know you were a girl.'

Hermione tried not to choke on her butterbeer. Her heart raced. She couldn't dare let him that her mind was suddenly full of daydreams involving him blushing around her like that.

Maybe -if she had been paying attention- she would have noticed Ron staring at her shyly over the top of his mug, his ears now far redder than before, and his expression softer and tender than it had ever been when looking at Rosmerta.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione Granger-Weasley opened her eyes.

The bedroom around her was lit softly by the pale sunlight drifting through the curtains. She could hear Ron singing to himself in the kitchen downstairs, and she stretched out, enjoying the feeling of the silk sheets on her skin.

Presently, she heard the staircase creak.

The door opened, and Ron walked through, levitating a tray of food into the room. As he set it down on her lap, she could see it was covered with toast, croissants, orange juice, coffee, plus a bowl of Hermione's favourite granola cereal.

'Ron, you really didn't have to-'

'But I wanted to. We can scourgify any crumbs that fall onto the bed and, besides, we deserve a treat once in a while.'

'_We_? You still had to make all this.'

Ron winked at her, as he climbed into bed. Hermione felt her face glow.

'You're so sweet,' she said, pecking him on the cheek. 'How did I end up this lucky?'

'I ask myself the same thing every morning,' Ron replied, grinning. 'Especially when you're wearing that transparent-'

'Ron!'

The redhead laughed, before planting a kiss on her cheek. His facial hair tickled her skin.

'I love your beard, you know.'

'I noticed,' Ron said, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. 'Believe me, _I've noticed_.'

Hermione giggled, leaning into his side as she chewed on a slice of toast.

'I know what I like.'

'Oh, I'm not complaining,' Ron cheeked, wrapping an arm around her. 'Not complaining at all, 'Mione…'


End file.
